Dichotomy
by Sanis
Summary: She went to him, late one night. She wanted what only he could give, but she got more than she ever dared bargain for. The worst part? She loved it! Blatent AxI. Not smutt. Excellent plot! Not what you'd expect.


**Don't own, no money make…me. Eh, too lazy to edit. Deal. Plebe! **

The night was a hot. The room was smothering, a white blanket of heat drowning everything it touched.

She lay on her bed, crying. He covers were askew, her nightgown twisted around her lanky frame. Her eyes were heavy with fatigue, but she wouldn't let them close. Her body was motionless, and except for an unforgiving sheen from the moon reflecting off the small tears falling from her eyes, it looked as if she was doing no more than sleeping.

It was the beginning of a storm that awoke her from her sleepless gaze. As a clap of booming noise brought her back to reality she quickly threw her covers away from her and leapt from the bed in an attempt to find solace.

Her legs were speedy and accurate. They tore threw her chambers, throwing open a door and carrying her down a dark and frightening hall to the staircase. She scrambled up the footholds, taking them in strides of two or three. Her heartbeat giving away her presence.

Into another dark hall she found herself. It was eerie, the third floor. She found comfort in it.

She plowed into the darkness, separating it with her light. He eyes held no fear as she went to look in the face of madness.

As she approached her destination, she did not slow down. It was at top speed that she ran into the door she had sought, and with a skillful grace she eased into the room.

She gasped.

"You lied!" she exclaimed.

The man who sat in a chair by the empty hearth slowly looked up to the creature he had hoped would not come to him.

"I did not lie," he replied calmly.

Her eyes were wide with confusion.

"You said that you would not be here when I returned," she accused. He could see the trails of wetness that had been tears, converted to anger.

"I did not come here, I did not come to you," he said, with a low tone to his voice. "You came to me, my child"

She watched the face that she had come to read over the many years they had been together.

"Why are you so upset servant?" she asked at his cloudy disposition, his mannerisms upsetting her.

He said nothing, but he lowered his head onto the hands. He seemed broken, defeated. She had never seen him so. It frightened her.

"I am not much more than a man, my darling," he said. "I am not much less either."

His words confused her, she did not tell him so.

"Come to me," he said. "I'll read to you."

He had not read to her since she had nightmares, when she was still a young girl. She cautiously approached the couch where he sat.

Her caution was fruitless; as she neared him he snatched her up and pulled her against him. She did little to stop him.

"Now," he told her. "I am going to tell you a story."

"I thought you were going to read to me," she interjected.

He scowled.

"I changed my mind," he told her. "Now, shut up and be happy with your damn story."

She giggled.

He leaned back and arranged the young girl on his lap so that his mouth was near her ear.

"Once upon a time," he started. "There was a man, and a woman. This man loved this woman very much, and although he could not tell her so, she knew how he felt."

The girl made an 'oooh' sound, wriggling in his lap.

"Hush," he told her sternly, while she adjusted herself. "This woman also loved this man, but she would not allow herself to know it. Her honor and position would not permit such emotion for such a specimen of the male species.

"The man did everything the woman asked, for he was her servant. She did little to acknowledge the fact, as she expected it of him. He was a good servant. He followed every order and met every challenged faced to him. He did this only for her. He did this and she did not reward him, or give him a kind word. She just continued to throw challenges at him, asking for more and more…and receiving nothing in return.

"They called this man a monster," he told her in a dramatic tone. "And it was true. This man had done terrible deeds. Things that could be excused by no God. He acted like a creature of darkness, until he as thwarted early in his unlife. Then, he was wrangled, taught to be a horrible creature of the night…all in the ultimate purpose of aiding the righteous, and so it was done. He was evil, the weapon of the light."

He stopped.

"And he was ruggedly handsome," he added in for dramatic effect with a shrug as the little girl squealed. "He continued on this path until the woman finally noticed him.He paused there, as if regaining his composure.

"Unfortunately," he said, malice thick on his tongue. "The man was on his death bed. He finally had nothing left to give his woman."

"I don't think I like this story anymore," said the little girl.

He continued on, not caring.

"The woman realized this," he said. "And it was then she understood she must finally give him something in return.

"So, without his knowing, as he lay in a pool of others blood, she slit her wrist. The man, unknowing to his actions, sucked greedily the warm liquid from it's source. When it was no longer enough, she slit the next, and again he drank. He gorged until he was fulfilled.

"However, this made the woman weak. Too weak to know even her own mind. The man, made strong again by her life, asked her if she'd like to join him, in his servitude, and the most pure and innocent part of her said yes.

"So the man shared their mingled blood between them and took the woman back home to his home land. There he watched as the woman turned into a girl again, a girl and a monster. Soon, he began to realize, that her wish to be with him was made by the most childlike part of her being. He noticed that, the more she learned to love him and to love herself again, the more she came to terms with her decision and accepted the bond which it represented; the older she would grow."

He held her to him as she tensed.

"However, everyday she would wake up, not remembering the day before. Everyday he would have to make up some story about her presence in his home. It was not until one day, that he realized he would have to tell the woman the truth, or she would never again be the woman he had give him her blood as he lay dying.

"The man put off telling the girl until she had been with him for nearly 12 years, once again, on the brink of womanhood. It was a hot stormy night when he called her to him, and amazingly, she remembered who he was. He knew then, it was time for him to tell the truth.

"And he did, she sat on his la, in taking every word, but it wasn't until the end when it dawned on her."

"What happens next?" she asked afraid to know.

He paused.

"I don't know yet," he said, unsure.

The girl turned around on his lap to face him.

"I remember now, Alucard," she said, her voice as hard as it had once been.

He closed his eyes. It had been over a decade since he heard his name from her lips.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

She grinned like he used to.

"Don't be," she consoled. "It was never your choice, Count."

A single bloody tear ran down his check.

She wiped the tear away, he snorted,

"Something in my eye," he mumbled.

She laughed to herself.

"Let me see," she demanded, pulling him towards her.

"Eh," he said.

"I don't see anything," she said. "Here, come closer. I'll kiss you and make it better."

She pressed her face to his, secretly hoping that she was going about the whole thing correctly.

He sensed her unease and quickly found the resolve to help her in the endeavor.

It was then that he felt a strangle tickling sensation

He pulled away to investigate, and there she was.

Just as he had left her.

The process was complete, she was finally his, too.

"Did you miss me?" she asked.

He simply growled and pushed her onto the couch, her laughter filling the air.

**A/N –Feed the author! Eh!**


End file.
